ever you know of, as having passed
between Miss Della, and--and--this man, I wish you to state plainly
here."

"I can tell you no more, sir, than you already know."

"By what means has this acquaintanceship been carried on? I know there
has been no opportunity for much personal intercourse. Have you
letters?"

"If I have, sir, they are the property of my young mistress, and as
such, I will deliver them to no one without her consent."

"Fool! do you forget that you are my slave?"

"As such, my first duty is to the mistress you have bade me serve."

"Are the letters in your possession?"

"They are, sir; placed there for safe keeping."

"Bring me them instantly!" said Mr. Delancey, stamping his foot heavily
upon the floor.

"No," said the girl, calmly folding her hands on her bosom; "whatever
questions my master has to ask, I am ready to answer; but I can do no
more."

"What do you mean?" cried the merchant, rising, and laying his hands
upon her shoulders. "Go and do my bidding instantly. What did you
confess you had them for, if you didn't expect me to get them? Any other
of my negroes would have lied."

Minny's face flushed crimson.

"Your other negroes, sir, might act differently, under many
circumstances, to what I would do--but," she continued, more calmly,
"Miss Della taught me never to tell a falsehood, and these lips have
never lied."

The merchant looked keenly at Minny for a moment, then said:--

"Do you know that if you disobey me I will use the lash? You are but a
slave, if you have a paler skin. Do you hear? Either tell me where these
papers can be found, or bring them to me yourself, or I will lash you
till your back runs pools of blood."

"And I will bear it, sir, though you should make it run rivers. My
mistress's confidence is more sacred to me than any drop of blood that
circles round my heart, and I will shed it all sooner than betray her."

Mr. Delancey paused a moment, with a glance of something like admiration
lighting up his cold eyes; perhaps he saw something of his own
indomitable spirit in the girl's firm demeanor, and, perhaps, the
thought that nature gave her a right to the possession of that spirit
never entered his mind. With his anger every moment growing more
intense, the merchant again laid his hand upon her arm.

"No more parleying, girl--bring me the letters."

"Never, sir."

"Dare you speak thus to me? I _will_ have them."

"Not while it is in my power to preve